At a little distance behind were the other skaters.
“That was a pretty race,” said Harry, as he came up. “I suppose you’ll admit that you are beaten, now, Rupert. Come, own up,” said Harry, seeing that Rupert remained silent. “You can’t deny that that was a fair race.”
“He wouldn’t have beaten me if I had been well,” said Rupert, thinking of an excuse at last.
“If you had been well?”
“Yes, that’s what I said.”
“What’s the matter with you?”
“I’ve got a bad headache. I thought of stopping in the middle of the race, but I didn’t want to spoil it.”
There was not a boy within hearing who believed for a moment that Rupert was really troubled with a headache, so that his subterfuge was of no service to him.
“Your headache came on rather suddenly, didn’t it?” asked Harry, significantly.
“No; I’ve had it for half an hour.”